


Three Christmases

by LearnedFoot



Series: Peter/Tony Ficlets and Drabbles [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Hopelessly Cheesy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: Then a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up to see Mr. Stark gazing down at him, amused smile on his face. “Bored, Mr. Parker?”“Mr. Stark!” Peter jumps to his feet, slipping his phone into his pocket. “No, of course not! This is great, thank you so much for the invitation. It’s…yeah. Really awesome.”Mr. Stark chuckles, smile getting wider. “Relax, kid.” He leans forward, conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I’m bored, too.”Or: It’s Christmas. Have some Peter/Tony fluff.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Peter/Tony Ficlets and Drabbles [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419445
Comments: 46
Kudos: 399





	Three Christmases

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t normally write pure fluff, but ‘tis the season, and I wanted to mark the occasion somehow. I’ve been busier than I expected with family stuff, so this is just a little thing I dashed off—please excuse it for being rough around the edges.

_1._

Peter’s so nervous about going to Mr. Stark’s Christmas party he almost backs out, but May tells him in no uncertain terms that is unacceptable.

“We’ve already RSVP’d. It would be rude. I don’t want Tony Stark thinking I raised you to be rude.” She almost pulls the stern mom act off, but her expression cracks into a peel of laughter at the end of the sentence. “More importantly, I already bought a dress.”

“And out comes the truth,” Peter teases. “You just want a chance to see the Avengers compound.”

“So what if I do?” She pulls him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “I think I’ve earned that.”

She has. After her initial week of freaking out, she’s been _so_ amazing about the Spider-Man thing. So he sucks it up, puts on Ben’s old suit, and gets in the limo (limo!) Mr. Stark sends for them.

Unfortunately, while the limo ride is lovely, the party is exactly as awkward as he was afraid it would be. Sure, it’s cool to see the compound lobby all decked out with big trees and oversized tinsel, and the food’s good, but Peter is the youngest person there by at least a decade, and he doesn’t really know anyone other than May, who’s quickly surrounded by men looking to flirt, and Happy, who makes exactly one minute of small talk before telling him he’s not babysitting all night.

May latches onto one of her hopefuls (a tall man who is vague about his job, which probably means he works for SHIELD), so Peter retreats to a corner to play games on his phone. The only people who interrupt him are the caterers, who occasionally come by with those little appetizer things.

Then a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up to see Mr. Stark gazing down at him, amused smile on his face. “Bored, Mr. Parker?”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter jumps to his feet, slipping his phone into his pocket. “No, of course not! This is great, thank you so much for the invitation. It’s…yeah. Really awesome.”

Mr. Stark chuckles, smile getting wider. “Relax, kid.” He leans forward, conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I’m bored, too.”

“Oh, um.” He’s not really sure how to respond to that. Mr. Stark has been a bit more forthcoming with communication since Peter turned down the Avengers offer, but it’s always been about patrolling, equipment updates, stuff like that. This feels different. More like friends talking, except they aren’t friends. He’s just a kid from Queens, and this Tony freaking Stark, wearing a suit that probably costs more than a month’s rent and a Santa hat that somehow manages to look good on him. “Sorry?”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You’re my solution. Come on.”

Before Peter can parse what that means, Mr. Stark’s hand is on the back of his neck, leading him toward the elevators.

“Where’re we going?” Peter asks as Mr. Stark pushes the down button. “I should probably tell May.” He twists around, unable to spot her in the crowd.

“If she needs you, she’ll text.” The elevator opens, and Mr. Stark ushers Peter inside. “But Aunt Hottie looked pretty wrapped up with Agent Sexy. Hey, who knows, maybe I found you a new uncle. You ever want a brother or sister?” Peter must do a bad job hiding his wince, because suddenly the hand at the back of the neck is squeezing. “Hey, sorry. Was that too far? That was too far. Please feel free to tell me when I go too far. It’s a thing I do, Pep is making me work on it.”

Peter’s neck is getting hot under the constant contact. “It’s fine,” he mumbles. “I’m good.”

Two seconds later, he really _is_ good, because the elevator comes to a halt and opens onto an expansive, decked-out lab. There are Iron Man suits lining the walls, an Iron Man gauntlet in pieces on one of the desks, projected computer monitors—Peter is looking everywhere at once, but can’t take it all in. He knows his face must be doing ridiculous things, but he can’t help it. This is Tony Stark’s lab. _Tony Stark’s lab_.

“Good, right?” Mr. Stark sounds incredibly pleased with himself as he leads Peter to the desk with the gauntlet. “Go on, you can touch it. Just don’t break anything.”

Reverently, barely believing his luck, Peter picks up one of the pieces, enjoying the cold smooth rub of metal sliding against his skin. “Wow,” he breathes. He’s not sure if it’s for the design or the feel or the simple fact that he’s allowed to be standing here, holding a piece of Iron Man’s armor.

He’s startled out of his amazed stupor by Mr. Stark waving a card in front of his face. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

Peter takes it, and to his bemusement realizes the image on the front is him. Well, Spider-Man, swinging on a string of Christmas lights. “Where’d you get this?”

“The internet.” Mr. Stark is grinning, his energy suddenly turned giddy. It’s kind of weird. Really nice, but also weird. “You should really look into trademarking your image. I can have Pep handle that for you if you want. Keep your name out of it, of course, but we could license it, put the money aside…”

“Uh, maybe? That seems complicated.” Peter’s distracted from the bizarre concept of being a trademarked image when he opens the card and finds a key taped to the inside. Next to it, written in Mr. Stark’s confident handwriting, it says, _If you’re ever willing to swing out of the neighborhood…_

Peter looks up, confused, to find Mr. Stark practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s a key to the lab,” he explains, swinging his arm wide to encompass the space around him. “Well, metaphorically. Literally, I think it goes to one of these drawers, no idea which. Lab access is actually biometric. You’re already coded in, it’s your Christmas present. You’re welcome anytime. I figure we can set up a few lessons, get you oriented to the equipment…”

Peter is staring. He knows he’s staring. He tries to form words and fails.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you not like it? I really thought you’d like this.”

“I love it,” Peter manages. “I…” He has no way to express how much he loves it. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Mr. Stark slaps him on the shoulder, looking surprisingly relieved. “How about this: keep me company for the rest of the party, we’ll call it even.” He points at the gauntlet. “Want to learn how to put this thing back together?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, obviously I want to do that.”

He’s not really sure how it’s a present for _Mr. Stark_ , but he’s not complaining.

_2._

Peter learns Mr. Stark is going to be alone on his first post-resurrection Christmas when he overhears his conversation with Vice President Rhodes, who calls two days before to apologize for cancelling their plans (world politics rudely do not pause for the holidays). Even though Mr. Stark is on the other side of the lab, Peter can hear the disappointment in his voice as he assures his best friend that it’s okay.

It’s not okay. No way is Peter going to let his mentor—his _friend_ , the fucking savior of the whole universe—spend Christmas alone.

“You’re not spending the holidays with Morgan and Ms. Potts?” he asks casually when Mr. Stark circles back around to his workstation.

Mr. Stark sighs, slumping against Peter’s desk. “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to listen in on other people’s private phone calls?”

Peter shrugs. “I’m just surprised.” He knows the whole thing where Ms. Potts moved on with someone else while Mr. Stark was dead is awkward, but she always seemed like the kind of person who would make a blended family work.

As if reading Peter’s mind, Mr. Stark explains, “Pep invited me, but I just…I’m not there yet. It’s too weird. I realize this is a personal failing but…” He shrugs, shaking it off and putting on a painfully fake smile. He likes to pretend everything is okay, but Peter knows better. “It’s fine. Won’t be the first Christmas I spend in a lab. Dum-E looks great decked out in tinsel.”

“Yeah…” As if. “Or you can come to my place.”

“Pete, you don’t have to do that.”

Peter was prepared for this protest, and he has his angle ready. “Please? Ned and his family are visiting his grandma in Florida this year, so it’s just me and May and Happy, so it won’t be weird. And Happy would totally never forgive me if I _didn’t_ get you to come. I really don’t want to spend the night listening to him lecture me about being ungrateful, so you’d basically be doing me a favor.”

“Well, if I’m doing you a favor…” Mr. Stark pushes himself away from the desk, clasping his hands behind his back. “How can I say no?”

***

May’s a little annoyed he invited Mr. Stark without asking first (“ _Tony Stark_ , Peter? What am I supposed to serve him?”), but then he shows up with a wide smile, a thousand-dollar bottle of wine, and a surprising number of helpful cooking tips. Two hours into the evening he’s rescued the roast and so utterly charmed May that she insists he has to come back next year, if he wants.

By the end of the night, everyone other than Peter—who did sip the wine, but found the taste overwhelming—is tipsy, which means May and Happy are getting a little too cuddly for comfort, so Peter offers to walk Mr. Stark down to his ridiculously flashy car. They’d promised no gifts, but somehow it’s not a surprise when Mr. Stark, car door already open, casually tosses him a thumb drive.

“Blueprints for a new, way-better-than-SHIELD’s-version stealth suit,” he explains. “I was going to build it anyway, so it doesn’t violate the no-presents rule.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says, pocketing the drive. “I still didn’t get you anything.”

Mr. Stark’s eyes go soft. Then, in a move that leaves Peter breathless, he brushes his fingers across his cheek before pulling him into a tight hug.

“You did,” he says, voice low. “You always do.”

_3._

It becomes a tradition: Mr. Stark spends Christmas Eve with Morgan, Christmas Day with Peter, Happy, and May. Sometimes Ned and his family join—his head almost explodes the first time Mr. Stark gifts him a custom-made Iron Man Lego set—and sometimes Rhodey even manages to tear himself away from the call of duty long enough to stop by.

But a few years after Peter graduates from college, May and Happy decide they want to spend the holiday out of the cold, down in Bermuda. They invite Peter and Mr. Stark, of course, but Peter is neck deep in a project at work and can’t take the time off, and Mr. Stark still wants to spend Christmas Eve with Morgan. Ned is in California with his new girlfriend, and Rhodey is busy with something so top secret he can’t even tell them where he is, so it’s just the two of them.

Peter decides it’s a sign from the universe that now may be his moment.

“You know,” he suggests as they lean together, shoulders bumping, making tweaks to the newest design for Sam’s wings, “we could spend Christmas doing something May would never let us do when she’s around…”

“Oh my, sounds scandalous.” Mr. Stark waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer, but Peter doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger on his face long after the joke is over. He’s been doing that a lot, lately, and Peter never misses it.

Yep. Definitely time to make his move.

“Oh yeah, super scandalous. It’ll be all over the tabloids.”

***

That part’s not really a joke: Spider-Man and Iron Man patrolling together on Christmas is pretty much guaranteed to get media attention. They certainly catch the eye of people on the streets, which _may_ have something to do with the fact that Mr. Stark whipped up a special red-and-green suit for the occasion. They spend more of the day taking photos with fans than stopping crime, but they do deter a couple of thefts, so Peter calls it a win.

Besides, patrolling isn’t his top priority today.

As the sun begins to edge toward the horizon, Peter suggests they call it quits. Their plan for the evening is to watch a movie and eat Chinese takeout at Mr. Stark’s place. When they get to the soaring apartment building, Peter scrambles all the way to the roof rather than slipping in through the penthouse window like usual.

Mr. Stark catches on quickly, but the short period it takes for him to land by Peter’s side is all the time he needs to put his plan in motion.

The Iron Man helmet slides open, revealing Mr. Stark’s face. He looks perfect in the glow of the setting sun, eyes sparkling, laugh lines deep and welcoming when he smiles. “Apartment’s downstairs, Spidey.”

“Yeah, I know.” Peter’s heart is suddenly pounding so hard it feels like his ribs are going to split. What if this is a bad idea? He’s pretty sure he hasn’t been reading the signals wrong, but just because Mr. Stark’s eyes linger on his face doesn’t mean he actually wants to do more than look. “I, um, I thought it would be nice to watch the sunset.”

Mr. Stark glances out at the view, and nods with appreciation. Then his eyes flick up before returning to Peter’s face. “And the mistletoe that definitely wasn’t there earlier and is held up with something that looks suspiciously like your webbing?”

Oh. Kind of hard to play that off. But Mr. Stark’s eyes are doing that lingering thing, and his smile is warm. Peter takes a tentative step toward him, pulling off his mask. “Um, yeah. No idea where that came from.”

Mr. Stark takes a step forward himself, closing the distance between them. He raises his hand, gripping Peter’s chin. “Weird. Very mysterious.” The words come out little puffs of cold air that dissipate just before hitting Peter’s face. “Well, however it got there, I’m pretty sure the rules of Christmas say we have to kiss now.”

Relief floods Peter’s chest, warm glow spreading out through his body and up his face until he’s flushed even in the cold. “I mean, we can’t break the rules, right?”

“No,” Mr. Stark agrees, leaning forward. His lips are practically grazing Peter’s as he adds, “No, I’d hate to break the rules.”

***

They kiss until they can’t stand the cold, and then retreat to the apartment, where they kiss some more, giddy and giggling, as they wait for their food to arrive. Peter is dizzy with the relief of it, the disbelief, the sheer, unabashed joy.

“By the way,” Mr. Stark tells him between kisses, “I noticed your winter coat was looking worn. There’s a new one for you in the closet.”

Peter doesn’t even want to know how expensive whatever replacement Mr. Stark procured is. It’s probably amazing. His gifts always are. “I still didn’t get you anything,” he says. (This little routine has become tradition, too.)

Mr. Stark pauses the kissing, pulling back to look Peter in the eye. His fingers slide around the back of his neck, toying with the hair there. “Would it be hopelessly cheesy if I said you are the best gift I could possibly ask for?”

Peter snorts, amused and flattered and almost helplessly overwhelmed with delight. “Uh, yeah man. Yeah, it totally would.”

“Then I guess I’m hopelessly cheesy,” Mr. Stark says, pulling him in for another kiss. “But it’s Christmas, I think I’m allowed.”

Peter’s certainly not going to argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! As always, your feedback is the best gift I could ask for <3 I appreciate all of you very much.


End file.
